The Gradient Games
by Celes Ludenberg
Summary: The Hunger Games is a bigger threat than ever, particularly to a group of nine teenagers who are fated to come together to face their pasts in a bloodbath of betrayal and violence. They call themselves the Gradient. In the midst of this chaos, can their promises and bonds thrive?


** Prologue - Different Worlds **

***District 1 - Luxury***

Nicollet pulled her thick coat tighter around herself as another gust of strong wind whipped the streets. The bells were starting to begin their last toll and the neighborhoods were almost empty. Nicollet was one of a few who hadn't managed to catch the first ride to the town square.

It was Reaping Day after all. Nobody wanted, or dared to miss the occasion. Nicollet's stomach let out a low, muffled grumble. She hadn't eaten for six hours since breakfast, and her knees were starting to feel weak. Nicollet had placed another extra slot of her name into the bowl this year, but she wasn't sure about her chance of becoming a tribute. Shivering with both fear and hunger, Nicollet tried to ignore the pleas of her belly and trudged on, her feet cold on the smooth paved floors of District 1.

When Nicollet finally reached the main square where the reaping was already starting, she couldn't help darting her eyes about in the crowd, searching desperately for a familiar face.

Of course, she knew she would never find one. Nicollet had never quite fit in with anyone her age because she was never told to. Her parents had always been too busy managing the factories to listen to her, so Nicollet was always left to her own devices. She couldn't recall how many times she had placed her name just to be able to keep herself alive with the rations. Nicollet filled in an empty space between two girls about her age and waited as the woman drew the white slip out of the bowl. There was a sharp intake of breath from the whole crowd as District 1 waited for their first tribute.

_Nicollet Radomil! Congratulations!_

She didn't know how she did it, but she managed to make her way up dizzyingly onto the stage; feeling the pitiful and empty stares searching her as she passed the crowd, as two white peacekeepers marching on both sides of her. Nicollet had only one thought as she stood awkwardly - lost - on stage.

She sure as hell didn't want to do this.

Saber allowed the crowd to pull him closer into the square, where the stage was already set - the banners and monitors all raised in a grim, yet anticipated ceremony of the annual Hunger Games. All around him, the people pushed and pulled in a hesitant rhythm. There was starting to be a clear divide between the children under 19 and the adults. Their faces were the same though; grim, sullen, silenced to the mutual fear of the Capitol. Saber was different.

He had been waiting for this his entire life. In fact, you could say he grew believing in the Games. A sudden trickle of adrenaline flowed into his veins; the anticipation of what was coming sparking the familiar tingle. He remembered his brother, Sage. He remembered the tears on his mother's face when the screen showed his brother's corpse, stabbed to death violently, blood pooling around him. Saber's fists tightened.

He needed revenge.

The girl's name had already being called out, and Saber observed her, his sharp mind not missing a single detail. She was lost, afraid, numb. Clearly she didn't want to be there. He recalled her name: Nicollet Radomil. She looked about his age, maybe a year older. Somehow, he pitied her. The expression in her eyes reminded him of Sage, how he tried to look brave when he was clearly battling the illnesses that he had carried since birth. Saber's thoughts were torn away from his brother just then, because he had caught onto something that was more important.

The woman had said his name. He was the male tribute for this year's Hunger Games. Finally.

Despite himself, the corners of Saber's mouth lifted into a small, devious smile. They all probably thought he was mad for looking forward to it, but Saber had a reason. He needed to win. For what those wretched bastards did to his brother.

For Sage.

***District 3 - General Electronics***

Kaelan always had mixed feelings about this day. The day of reaping, and the day of his birth. He never knew how he should feel, but this was his last year of helpless waiting. At the age of 18, there was always the hope of getting away from the Games. But that was just the feeble fantasy of every 18 year old in Panem, except those living in the Capitol.

"May the odds be ever in your favour." Was that made to inspire one's belief or expire one's dreams?

He looked around for friends and family. His mother, father and 11 year old sister stood together, anxiously looking at Kaelan with desperate desire for him to live. Kaelan returned the look to his sister, Abby, which cruelly reminded him that it was soon her turn to live through the horror of the Hunger Games.

Anise found it hard to plow through the bodies in the town square to get to her dreaded place in the crowd with her friend. She had to tiptoe to grab a glance at heads ahead of her, scanning for something familiar.

Finally, she stopped next to Kaelan, knowing that - either way - this would be the last time that they'd have to stand in that spot again. Kaelan was eyeing the direction of his family with the same sad look each year. She would never understand the true feeling. Her parents had died of a power surge while they worked, and at that time she was just a year and 4 months old, sleeping at her aunt's house. She didn't have siblings, and didn't have anyone to consider a brother or a sister. Well, expect her best friend standing next to her.

"Hey Kaelan," she said, lightly touching his arm - breaking his train of thought, "happy birthday."

Anise took out a grand, mechanical box - well, as grand as it could get - for Kaelan to receive.

"Thanks, An," and he smiled half-heartedly.

It was the same gift she had for Kaelan each year, the same home-baked cupcake with a cherry on the top. In the same way, he carefully punched in the code to the delicate box and ate the cherry first. But this time, he didn't have the warm glow in his eyes as he gobbled down the cupcake. It was as is his body was operating, but his mind was just nowhere.

_Did he not like it?_ Anise thought.

She knew it was wrong to ask, especially on this day, but this Kaelan was different and she needed to know, "Are you ok?" He looked at her with something that seemed like confusion and subtle annoyance.

"No, Anise," he looked back at his sister, "I'm not," and gave out a suppressed sigh. She waited for him to continue. It took a while, but he then said, "she's going to be part of this nonsense next year. My sister is too young, too innocent for something like this. No one should be doing anything like this!"

Kaelan gazed at Anise again, with fierce anger.

"Why do they make us do this, Anise?" he demanded, "why?"

This, she couldn't answer.

Time was ticking. The paper unfolded and the name was revealed.

_Anise Zinevra._

Kaelan's heart beated faster. Breaths were quicker. Air was colder. His best friend was going to the Games. He gaped at Anise beside him, wide-eyed with incredible terror. She returned his look, but only for a second. Her legs lead her to the stage, taking her place in the list of victims of the annual Hunger Games.

The second slip of paper unfolded. Another name revealed.

_Kaelan Markum._

_No. Not possible. _He never saw it coming. He never thought it would happen. "Kaelan! No! NO!" he heard his sister protest.

With immense disbelief, he stared at his shoes as the shadows of Peacekeepers engulfed him, pushing him to the front, next to their district's escort. On the Tribute's stage. Kaelan looked at Anise. Anise looked back.

_They were going to have to hurt each other. Or _worse_._

_How could I have been so naive? _He thought.

***District 4 - Fishing***

"Des, it's fine, I won't be picked to fight in the Games. Trust me when I say this," Flynn whispered as she stared into her brother's eyes. Her hand stroked the top of his head as he quietly wept, rocking back and forth on the dock. The planks creaked again and again under his weight, but the tempo was constant as he continued to sway. Steadily Flynn got up on her feet, and casted the line with one swift movement. Des stared at the ripples forming in the water. She had thought another chilled fishing trip would ease her brother's mind. Nevertheless Des had detected the uncertainty in his sister's quivered voice.

"But what if you-"

"I won't," Flynn interjected. Her eyes still hadn't shifted from the lake - concentrating on the spot where her fishing hook had entered the water. "Besides, one of the Careers will volunteer. We are in District 4, after all." This calmed Des. The creaking stopped. He sat up from being in the foetal position, crossing his legs – a somewhat childlike way to sit.

Flynn had always wanted to know what was in her brother's mind; why he cared so much about her being chosen to become a tribute. Des didn't have to worry about it; he couldn't participate in the Games anyway. His years of living in fear of having to fight had ended: he was grown up. 19 years old he was, but his mental disorder made him unable to live on his own. They still lived under the same roof, with the same guardians: their mother and father. Flynn felt the same way toward her older brother - she worried about Des the same way he worried about her, and the thought of leaving him was unbearable. Des finally spoke up.

"We better get to the square."

Then it all happened too fast.

_Flynn Sayres._

Silence fell across the district square. Flynn waited. No hands went up. Not a single person decided to volunteer in place of her. As she shuffled her feet forward, a cry from the crowd of guardians and younger children broke the silence.

"Come on! Someone, go and volunteer!" It was Des. "Flynn, don't go! Someone will volunteer. You said so." Heads turned, and Flynn gaped at her brother as his eyes filled with salty tears. His hands trembled. "Someone… volunteer. Please."

All eyes were on her now. Faces glared at her – some straight, some with pity – but still no one was going to help her. On to the stage she went, with her head down, as she avoided making eye-contact with her brother.

"NO! One of you must volunteer! Do it!" His voice was hoarse from screaming and shouting. Peacekeepers marched toward Des and held him back as his arms flailed in the air. "You said someone would-" A peacekeeper roughly placed his hand on Des' mouth, and his voice became muffled as he tried to speak.

"Do not touch him!" Flynn cried. Her eyes stung now, and her vision turned blurry. Peacekeepers were holding her back as well. Her mouth opened wide, ready to apologise to her brother for what she said, but no words came out. What was she supposed to say?

The boys were next. This time there was a volunteer. He didn't even need Peacekeepers to restrain him, the Career walked all too willingly onto the stage, smirking at the red-eyed girl on the other side, her face obviously trying to contain tears. Flynn could have only imagined what he was thinking of her. _What was her name again? Flinda or something?_ All he knew was that she was the one with the brother who screamed when she was called.

How pathetic.

***District 5 - Power***

If there was one day that Iris would sleep in, it would have to be on this day. The pure cruelty of fate stung her. Of course... not like lady fate would favour anyone living in the districts, but some days Iris swore that she got the bad end of the stick when it came to luck. This, however was just her sleep deprived mind moaning to her.

Shaking her head, she jumped (more like stumbled) out of bed and reached for her hairbrush. Her mind was foggy from sleepiness, as she had tossed and turned in bed the previous night, not being able to stand the idea of the next day looming over the corner - ominous and menacing as all the other Reaping days.

She had no time to grab any breakfast… but it wasn't like she had much to eat anyways. Instead, the teen grabbed a simple white shirt and jeans and pulled them on, attempting to comb her hair at the same time.

She yelped a hurried goodbye to her parents and two younger sisters as she hurried out the doors. They'd follow, of course, but she needed to get there early. She shook her head as she dodged strangers and acquaintances alike while hurrying down the street to the main square. Luck was definitely NOT on her side today.

Finally the main square was in sight. Iris wasn't the fastest runner around, but she wasn't slow. In fact, in the school, she was pretty fast… since most students spent their time doing things related to science and not physical work. Not that Iris was a sports freak, but she wasn't a science freak either.

Slowing down to the gates, she braced herself as the Peacekeeper pricked her finger, feeling the familiar jab she had felt for 5 years. She had only just stepped into her place in the reaping line when the district's escort called out a name. Iris' heart skipped a beat.

It was her name.

For Maka, the reapings were only the beginning.

For what reason exactly? To any normal mind, it would be beyond them to hear of a boy from 5 to volunteer. That was practically unheard of, and Maka was definitely not one to volunteer. He saw himself as ordinary, the average teenager that just blended in with the rest of the crowd. For Maka, being a tribute is like dancing around the streets naked. Unexpected, impossible, and definitely not something he would want to do.

So, when he volunteered for the Hunger Games, it wasn't much of a surprise that there was an outburst.

Mainly his sister, to be exact. The 12 year old was participating in her first reaping that year, and to see her brother being torn from the very arms that had held her just half an hour ago. Choking back tears, she called out his name as he walked up slowly to the stage.

"Maka! Please come back! Why?" she sobbed, blinking back tears as he stood on the stage now, shaking hands with the freakish escort. It wasn't fair. Why did he have to go? It could have been anyone! But….

She needed him.

_I'm sorry_, he mouthed, looking directly at her, his brown eyes boring into hers.

He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to hurt his sister, to hurt his mother and father and friends and everyone around him that he cared for and loved. But to save them, he had to. He had to go and win so that their lives would be better. He didn't want to die. But, at the same time… he couldn't bear watching the lives of those he loved being slowly sapped away. He couldn't stand just sitting there, doing nothing while people died. He had to do something.

If dying would change that, it was a sacrifice Maka himself was willing to make.

***District 6 - Transportation***

Four years. She had dodged the bullet four times. Each time this year, she would see friends or their friends head off to their near certain deaths.

Surely she could survive another year.

_Ellene didn't know how wrong she was._

A signalling cough from Aaron Trinkhert and everything went still, cold. The sky turned stormy grey and the clouds grew above. Standing in the hushed crowd of District 6, Ellene anxiously awaited the calling of the unfortunate names chosen cruelly by the fates. Time slowed - hands started to dampen in the long anticipation. She watched as he slowly unfolded the white slip. He opened his mouth and a drop of sweat found its way down Ellene's face, despite the wind and cold.

"Ellene Carthers!"

A cry of despair.

"NO! Not again, please! Not my other child, too! NO! NO!"

Ellene couldn't comprehend the horror on her mother's face as she pleaded and tried to break away from her father's grasp, regrettedly holding her back. Ellene hesitantly tore the gaze of her parents and allowed her legs to insistently move her through the staring, gapped crowd and towards the dreaded tribute's stand, next to the district's escort right from the Capitol, Aaron Trinkhert.

He always wore the purple-blue suit and an unexpected array of hair highlights. Always had the same wicked smile of an arrogant Capitol citizen. Always had no feelings for the people who he had and would shake hands with as they came forward to meet Death face-to-face.

In this case, Ellene would be this year's victim, along with another boy. She stood straight, facing the solemnity of the crowd before her, with eyes full of empty pity, none daring to object or volunteer. Her parents at the back; her mother's face buried in the comforting hold that her father gave. Safe - where Ellene prefered them to belong.

Looking up to the sky, she closed her eyes, recollecting the memories of her district. And her dead brother. She was going to die. It was near to certain. And she accepted it.

_May the odds be ever in your favour._

***District 9 - Farmland/Grains***

He hated the Games because it was the reason he became an orphan. He didn't know where he was from, and no one told him. No one knew. All that people _could_ tell him was that when Lake was just a baby, his biological parents gave him to the Peacekeepers to get food and supplies to last a life time. Apparently they couldn't - or wouldn't - wait till he grew old enough to put his name up for the Games. The Peacekeepers didn't know what to do with him, and they sure didn't want to welcome him into the Capitol, so instead, they dumped him into District 9. If he could've had it his way, Lake would've gone to search for those Peacekeeping bastards and send them straight to hell.

But no. He couldn't risk dying. Not yet, anyway. He had to wait for the right chance. In a way, Lake was thankful that he didn't end up in the Capitol. Yes, it would mean that he wouldn't be anywhere near the danger of getting killed like he was now. But he wouldn't forgive himself for being a part of the smug-faced crowd of the Capitol, enjoying the deaths of innocent younglings from poorer places than theirs. He would rather die than be that.

"Lake, you better get dressed. You too, Adelaid," Mrs. Smith poked her head through the door. "Oh boys, you two look…" she paused, eyeing them from head to toe, "so grown up." They had already got dressed, and spent the last few minutes staring into space, both deep in thought. She hastily pulled Lake and Adelaid into a tight hug.

"Don't worry about us, mother," replied Adelaid.

"No one deserves any of this…" she said with a stifled voice. Simultaneously the three burst into tears in each others' arms. The boys didn't expect it from their strong mother, or even themselves. But this time it was different. No one spoke a word, as they silently sobbed and sniffed. "And Lake, I do care about you. Don't think because I adopted you, I don't care about you as much as I care about Adelaid. I love you both. You're my son, Lake."

Lake took a deep breath in. He had always felt a bit left out sometimes, no matter how many times his mother told him that he was loved equally as much as Adelaid. At moments like these, seeing his mother in tears… he knew that he was loved. And though the fear was taking over him, a small part of him felt happy. He may have been an orphan, but he still had a family.

"I know." he replied, squeezing her tight. "But, mum… we have to go…"

"Be brave. And no matter what you two do, you'll both be my sons." she said, letting go of the two boys. She had already lost her husband. She couldn't bear to lose any of her children too. It would break her.

_Break her._

Broken. That's what Lake felt as he stood in the roped off areas, his eyes wide in shock. The girl had just been called, a girl a year younger than him. She was called Lainne, and though it seemed she was trying hard not to show any emotion, her eyes showed something that could only be registered as hurt.

She was broken too. Adelaid was broken. His mother was broken. He was broken. Why?

His name had just been called. Lake was participating in the annual Hunger Games.

***District 10 - Livestock***

Vincent wiped his sweaty palms against his pant leg, the lack of sleep from last night fading under the layer of adrenaline that fueled him. The others around him bore similar expressions, some of them evidently at their first Reaping Day. Vincent glanced around him; the main square was packed as always, and for once, the familiar smell of cattle did not reach him under the heavy tension of the waiting crowd.

He watched as a woman dressed in clothes too colourful and hair too flamboyant stepped up onto the stage, her voice undulating in a weird tone that signified her citizenship in the Capitol. Vincent hated the Capitol. He hated their idea of entertainment even more. His palms were curled in silent, shaky fists now as he watched a younger girl about fifteen step up onto the stage. Her expression was unusually still... emotionless almost.

Then District 10 waited on the edge of their wits. The woman on the stage gave a decorative wave of her hand and she pinched the faithful name from the large clear bowl. In spite of himself, Vincent waited with the crowd, a sudden chill running down his spine.

_Micky Bernard! Come on stage!_

Wait a minute.

This couldn't be happening.

Oh, but it was. Vincent stared as his only friend was plucked out from the parted crowd. The look on Micky's young face paled from a mixture of horror and panic.

Micky was only twelve years old, and like a few others, it was his first reaping. He had so much more to live for compared to Vincent, who didn't even know who his real family was.

He couldn't accept this.

_He wouldn't accept this._

He then felt his hand raise up to the pungent air of tension; wide-eyed heads all languidly turned toward his direction. He felt the substantial stares of his fellow District all focusing on him as his impenetrable voice pierced through the crowd.

"I volunteer as tribute," said Vincent's voice - loud and clear without a single wavering word.

"NO!" Micky cried, "NO! Vincent, don't do this!" He was trying to resist the Peacekeepers hard grip, but failed. Vincent tried his best not to acknowledge Micky's cries, for if he did, he knew he would regret it.

"Please! Don't do this!" Micky turned to the woman on stage, "he can't do this!"

"Yes, I can!" Vincent declared with conviction, shooting a glare at his friend. This stopped his pleas and howls. Why couldn't Micky see that he was trying to help him?

"Very well then," said the imperious Capitol woman plastering a fake smile on her heavily lipstick-coated mouth, "what is your name, boy?"

Turning his attention back to the lady, a little hesitantly, he replied, "Vincent Maximus."

"Vincent Maximus, volunteering as District 10's male Tribute! Please kindly come up on stage!" The crowd solemnly applauded as Vincent's ponderous footsteps walked up to the beckoning stage. He took in the view of his District knowing that this may very well be the last time he would ever see anybody here again - he tried to savour this moment.

There was a lump in his throat as he caught eye contact with Micky, the grateful look in his watering eyes. Suddenly, malevolent tears threatened to spill into Vincent's vision, but he managed to hold them back. He must not show any weakness to Micky, he must show that he's strong, only then will Micky not worry. If his sacrifice was worth anything, it'd be for that boy to be happy.

He turned to his right where the female tribute stood, her face, to his surprise, was utterly impassive. He couldn't make out even a tiny hint of emotion on her face. _How could she not be crying or even show any signs of sadness? Doesn't she have any loved ones?_ He thought to himself._ What was her name again?...Em...Emma? No...Embry. That was it, Embry._ He didn't know her last name, in fact he has never actually seen her in District 10 before.

"Chop chop, my lovely angels - the train's waiting!" said a high-pitched voice that belonged to the strange Capitol lady as she ushered the two tributes backstage behind the dense wooden doors that separated them from the rest of their family. Vincent desperately looked back to grasp a last glimpse of his District; their mourning, empathetic faces. Micky's last attempt at shouting his name was the last thing he saw as the gargantuan oak doors shut - the deafening sound of it ringing in his ears obliterating every bit of Vincent's hopeless last chance to escape.

"Come on, Vincent. It's time to go to the Capitol!" sang their annoying district escort, interrupting his thoughts.


End file.
